Unexpected Flowers
by ThatBoxThere
Summary: England goes throughout his daily life normally until he finds a bouquet of flowers from an unknown sender. Some flowers spark up a distant memory in the nation's mind, but those memories can't be right, can they? Spoiler: USUK fluff


It was raining in England. Again. And England himself woke up at around 8AM. Again. Everything was a schedule for England. He would walk downstairs to the kitchen and make himself breakfast. Then go back upstairs, change into some comfortable clothes, usually meaning a sweater vest on top of a formal shirt and some trousers, and clean himself up.

By that time it was around 10 and England would go outside to collect his mail. Mail usually meant bills and letters from his boss. England opened his door and… Wait, what was this? Flowers?

England picked up the bouquet. He recognized the flowers wrapped in the plastic. Acacias… Acacias weren't very popular in bouquets… England remembered something in his past, something about giving flowers having special meanings… Acacias meant… What did they mean… Secret love? Who would send something like that?

England thought about it. Who had a thing for flowers? France? Nah, he'd just appear naked on England's doorstop, like he did on multiple occasions. Who else liked flowers? England remembered Russia had a thing for sunflowers… England shuddered at the thought of Russia sending _him_ flowers. What about people he was close to? Japan? No, Japan would be more formal, maybe ask him in person, not by mail. America?

…

A faint blush crossed the Englishman's face as he considered the thought. There was no way America would be this formal, right? Yes, he was one of the only ones England taught the different meanings of flowers to but…

England picked up the rest of his mail and slammed the door shut. He lay down the flowers on the table (but he would refuse to call it a _coffee_ table) and sat down on the couch. He forced himself to look at the other mail he got. Let's see… there was a letter from his boss informing him about a meeting that was scheduled for Monday and… England couldn't focus on the letter. His attention kept drifting back to the flowers that were lying on the table in front of him. He hadn't even checked if they had a tag.

England put down his mail and picked up the bouquet of flowers again. There was a tag… All it said was, _'I hope you remember what these mean' _in handwriting England recognized, but only just barely. He remembered it, but not who it belonged to. That only made it more frustrating.

England stared at the bouquet, looking for more clues to who could have sent this to him… Nothing else. England looked around for an empty vase, I mean; these flowers shouldn't be wasted, right? I mean, it wasn't like England actually cared about who sent the bouquet, he wasn't about to let mere _flowers_ get in the way of his daily life.

But every day, somehow England found himself staring at the bouquet sitting on top of the table, wondering who it could be from and when the day that the flowers wilted came, England ended up staring at the note that was left.

Until one day, he stood up in the middle of the house and shouted to no one, no one could hear him anyways; "I've had enough of this! I will find out who sent these flowers that have been mixing up my daily life!"

And England was right about the flowers disrupting his routine, in the mornings he would come downstairs to make breakfast, only to stare at the flowers or the card, while his breakfast was burning. By the time he would hear the beeping of the smoke alarm, it would already be 9:45.

England threw on his coat and shoes and opened the door… Only to step on something that made a crinkling noise. The sound of thin plastic being stepped on. He had collected his mail today - late of course - what was this doing here?

More importantly, what was it? England looked down. Another bouquet? But different flowers this time. He picked up the bouquet. Red… Tulips? Red tulips? Red tulips symbolize a declaration of… Love. A declaration of love.

England blushed a deep pink. He walked into his house and closed the door silently behind him. He didn't even bother to take off his coat. He sat down on the couch and stared at the flowers in his hand…

The tag! Last time, England forgot about the tag, this time he would check for a tag immediately!

England gingerly turned the bouquet until he came to the little card attached to the flowers by a purple ribbon.

'_I hope you accept these'_

England just kept reading the note over and over again. That same handwriting kept bugging him. He recognized it, but he didn't. Other than the handwriting, the card was perfectly clean.

England turned his attention back to the flowers. The blush came back at full throttle. England just kept staring at the flowers until the phone rang.

"H-Hello?" England answered.

"'Ello?" said a voice with a certain French accent.

"Oh it's you, you frog. What do you want?" England answered, regaining his composure.

"Oh, non, why do you expect me to want something from you?"

"Because you always do, anyways, if you're only going to speak insolent chit chat, I am busy, so could you please hurry it up?"

"Oh oui, do you know what date it is today? Or more importantly tomorrow?"

"Today is the 13th, why?"

"And tomorrow is Valentine's Day, oui? I'm just wondering if l'Angleterre has a date for tomorrow."

"Why should I tell a frog like you?" And to be honest, England forgot about Valentine's Day.

"I'll take that as a non. Another lonely year for you? Oh, and just so you know, I have a date, so I'll guess see you later," France said, adding flair to later and hanging up.

England hung up on his side of the call. He most certainly did _not_ need a date. He could just be sitting at home alone. Like he has been for the past years.

For the rest of the day, England went about his usual business, not even remembering the flowers that were lying on the table, meaning that he actually followed his schedule, and being on time for everything he had planned.

* * *

The next morning, England woke up on time, the usual 8AM. He shuffled downstairs to find slightly withered tulips on the table. England had forgotten all about them and now was regretting that. He rushed to find a vase to put the flowers in. England didn't quite know why he cared so much about these flowers that were sent to him, but he did.

He continued the morning as he usually would, the only difference being he was trying to not let the depressing date of the 14th of February get to him, which was working out until he sat down to eat his breakfast with the vase of red tulips right in front of him. For some reason, it just made him depressed.

When England finished his breakfast, he changed into some clothes and went outside to check his mail. But he didn't find mail waiting for him outside. This was much better.

It was a man. England took in the outfit first, jeans and a t-shirt companioned with an all too familiar jacket. The man's hands were behind his back, as if hiding something.

England looked up to the face. Blue eyes behind thin rimmed glasses looked back.

"England… I- I…" America said.

England's brain had just short circuited. He couldn't move and he could barely comprehend what was going on.

"If you want be to leave, I'll just go," America said.

Because England didn't respond, America took that as a, 'Yes, I want you to leave'. So, he started to turn around, but just barely. England caught him by the arm before he could leave.

"No, don't leave, America," he whispered.

"Well, alright, um, this is what I really came here for," America said as his once hidden present was revealed to England. Red roses. The symbol of pure love. And with that, what was left of England's brain had a heart attack. So he did the only thing he could think of doing.

England had now gripped the bouquet, his hand on top of America's.

"England, if you hate me now, just tell me, 'cuz, I mean, this was stupid idea, right? I shouldn't have come here, this is stupid right?" America asked, sounding as if he was actually _embarrassed_.

"No," England answered and grabbed the American's collar and brought him closer, until their faces were level.

"This is perfect," he said, and he closed the distance between them.

* * *

**Okay, so. If you hate it, I'm fine with that. Just leave constructive criticism. And if you do like it, should I do this with more pairings? Add it as a new chapter or something? Tell me if I got some grammar or spellings wrong, because even though I do read through these, I miss out somethings. Anyways, if you're reading this, I'm glad you actually read the entire thing! Unless, you just skipped to the bottom.**


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